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THE FLYING STAG PLAYS 

For The Little Theatre 



No. 5 



TWO BLIND BEGGARS 
AND ONE LESS BLIND 



Copyright, 1918, by 

EGMONT H. ARENS 

All rights reserved 

The professional and amateur stage rights on 
this play are strictly reserved by the author. 
Applications for permission to produce the 
play should be made to the Washington Square 
Players, New York. 

While it is hoped that the publication of the 
plays in this series will encourage their produc- 
tion in all parts of the country, it is held that 
the interests of the New Theatre movement 
can best be served by vigorous protection of 
the playwrights, without whom the movement 
cannot go forward. 

Therefore, any infringements of the author's 
rights will be punished by the penalties im- 
posed under the United States Revised Sta- 
tutes, Title 60, Chapter 3. 

The Publisher. 



TWO BLIND BEGGARS 
AND ONE LESS BLIND 

A Tragic Comedy in One Act by 
Philip Moeller ^ ^ as played by 
the Washington Square Players 



Published by EGMONT ARENS at the 

Washington Square Bookshop New York 

1918 



TWO BLIND BEGGARS AND ONE 
LESS BLIND 

was first produced by the Washington Square 
Players, at the Bandbox Theatre, New York, 
1915, with the following cast: 



Gregory, an old blind beggar 
George, another blind beggar 
A Third Beggar, less blind 
A Little Girl - - - - 



Edivard Goodman 

Ralph Roeder 

Walter H. Frankl 

Florence Enright 



m 24 1918 
e)aD 4 9843 



TWO BLIND BEGGARS 
AND ONE LESS BLIND 



The Scene is a rag-pickers' cellar. Five feet abo've 
the back of the stage is the le^vel of the side- 
walk, 'Where the feet of the people passing can 
he seen and from ivhich a broken stair leads 
doivn. The scene is dimly lit by the light from 
the street. In a corner is an old stove luith a 
feiu coals turning to ashes. On a box is an 
oil lamp. Gregory and George are sorting 
rags. 



GEORGE 
Did you hear them? 

GREGORY 
I've heard nothing but your beery breath com- 
ing and going when you lean towards me. 

GEORGE 
Nothin' else? 



6 TWO BLIND BEGGARS 

GREGORY 
What else? 

GEORGE 
The happy feet of the people going home 
from the factory. 

GREGORY 
I've heard your breath, I tell you, and the 
scrape of your dirty hands in the rags. 

GEORGE 

Dirty, you say? 

GREGORY 
You've brought a new stench into the cellar. 
It's too bad that you've come with your rack- 
ety smut to filthy the end of my days. If you 
must spill your noise whisper it low in your 
brain. Your talk's too much and your truth's 
too little. 

GEORGE 
Ah don't be hard on me. When I'm as old as 
you, I'll be happy to welcome a fridnd. 

GREGORY 
A friend, you say. That's a slippery word. 
How long is it we've been here together in 
the damp? 

GEORGE 
I've lost count of it. 

GREGORY 
Is it mor'n a week or less'n a week? 



PHILIP MOELLER ^ 

GEORGE 
It's longer than that. But it's hard knowing 
with only your ears to tell you the time by 
the feet of the people passing. 

GREGORY 
Is it two weeks? 

GEORGE 
It's mor'n that, for it's every month that they 
stand in the gutter banging their drums and 
praising the Lord. 

GREGORY 
So it's mor'n a month that you've sat there 
batting my ears with your bawl, and you say 
you're my friend. 

GEORGE 
[IF /lining.] 
Well, ain't I? Didn't I tell you how it was 



w 



hen I saw 



GREGORY 
It was an endless hurt to hear your boasting. 

GEORGE 
Didn't I tell you about the tree with the moon 
in its twigs and under the branches the huddled 
people moaning with love in the dark? 

GREGORY 
I can forgive you for tellin' me that. It's the 
sort of thing the blind can see. What's the 
moon like? 

GEORGE 
Like the looks of a silver dollar spinnin' round. 



8 TWO BLIND BEGGARS 

GREGORY 
I've heard people tell of such things. 

[They go on quietly ^working. There is a 
sound of voices passing the door.] 

GEORGE 
It's evening — they're going home — their feet 
are quicker. 

GREGORY 
Be still now. I've had enough of your talk. 

GEORGE 
You used to like to hear about the houses . . . 

GREGORY 
Be still, I tell you! 

GEORGE 
Of the churches, with the spires like icicles a 
mile high hanging upside down. 

GREGORY 
[Throwing a handful of rags at George.] 
Here, stuff these rags in your head I 

[They go on <working. Gregory feels about 
him.] 

GREGORY 
Have we done yet? 

GEORGE 
No, there's more to be sifted. 

[A coal drops. He lifts his hand, palm up, in 
the direction of the stove.] 
The coals are turning to ashes. 



PHILIP MOELLER 9 

GREGORY 

You talk like a woman that feels the cold. 

GEORGE 
When I'm as old as you and half of me stiff 
in the ground, I'll not mind it. But there's 
a long length of life ahead of me. 

GREGORY 

God gagg the words in your throat 1 It's happy 
I'll be at your funeral kicking the stones till 
they rattle down on your upturned face. 

GEORGE 
There's a pool of sweet in your heart, old man, 
but if ever I die before you, I've still lived the 
longer, for I've known the light and the looks 
of things . . . and I once saw a worm lying 
drunk in the sun. 

GREGORY 
It's a dark day that I sit and hear you tell of 
this. 

[They go on ivorking. Gregory again feels 
about him.] 

GREGORY 
We've done now and I can sleep. 

GEORGE 
It isn't much that you'll see in your dreams. 
[Gregory rolls over on the floor. After a 
moment George begins to ivhistle.] 



10 TWO BLIND BEGGARS 

GREGORY 
[Sitting up.] 
You're sticking needles in my ear! Shut up! 
[Fie rolls back on the floor. Georges reaches 
another bundle.] 

GEORGE 

Old man, here's another, but we'll leave it till 
tomorrow. 

{When he lies doivn Gregory straightens up, 
as if they ivere each at either end of a see- 
satjo.] 

GREGORY 
I can't take the risk. I might die before morn- 
ing and I don't want to step up to God with a 
sop of filthy rags in my hands. 

GEORGE 

You're so old you're afraid to die. 

GREGORY 

Afraid, am V What chance would I have 
sprinkling the dust under the clean white 
noses of the angels. Give me the bundle. 

GEORGE 
Tomorrow. 

[Gregory lurches toivards him and catches 
him by the hair.] 

GREGORY 

You've got no religion. 

[His hand comes doivn to Gjorge's throat.] 



PHILIP MOELLER 11 

GEORGE 

[Tremblinff.] 
I haven't the heart to dispute with a weak old 
man like you. 

[He rolls the bundle o<ver. There's a scuffle 
and scrape on the floor.] 
What's that? 

GREGORY 
Rats, you fool. 

[Gregory unties the cord. George falls to 
sleep. When the string is unloosened Gregory 
stretches out his leg and kicks George in the 
ribs.] 

GEORGE 
[Starting up.] 
God damn you, old manl My hand was just 
on the knob of her door. Why did you wake 
me? 

GREGORY 

It might be better for me if you slept. . . . 
[George flings himself donvn again snarling.] 

Because if I find something here it's all my 
own. 

GEORGE 

[Sitting upright.] 

I'll help you sift. 

[They go on working. Gregory chuckling 
softly to himself.] 



12 TWO BLIND BEGGARS 

You're a mighty miser keeping all that joy 
to yourself. 

GREGORY 
[Exploding ivith mirth.] 

Ha! Ha! Ha! That was easy — easier than kiss- 
ing a corpse. Ha! Ha! Ha! 

GEORGE 
Eh I 

GREGORY 
It's twenty years, I've been siftin' and nothing's 
ever been found. And now at the hint of it 
you're up from your sleep. Ha! Hal 

GEORGE 
There may be somethin'. 

GREGORY 

[Fiendishly.] 
Ha! Ha! Hope's a filthy whore, my boy. She 
pops her head around the corner and when you 
run for her, up go her fingers to her nose. 
Ha! Ha! You might just as well have slept. 

GEORGE 
There wasn't a wink in me. I'm afraid to 
sleep. If my sight came back while I slept, I 
mightn't know it. 

[They go on working. Far off a luhistle bloivs.] 

GEORGE 

There's a fog on the river. The boats will be 
moving slowly. 



PHILIP MOELLER 13 

GREGORY 

It must be a poor thing to see. You're always 
got to be going somewheres and looking at 
people. 

GEORGE 
I once saw a woman look at me! 
[His hand stops.] 

GREGORY 
You've stopped sifting. 

GEORGE 
It was like the smell of the trees. 

GREGORY 
This is a big bundle. 

GEORGE 
It was like the voices of the people in the 
dark. I heard them — all of them, they were 
saying, "You! You!" 

GREGORY 
You didn't hear right. It was "II I!" they 
were saying. 

GEORGE 
All day I kept lookin' into people's hearts. 
[They go on sifting the rubbish. Another coal 
drops in the stove.] 

GREGORY 
They're late to-night. 

GEORGE 
The little girl will be tired. 



14 TWO BLIND BEGGAHS 

GREGORY 

He'll be walking the streets led by the child 
till the last glimpse has gone from his eyes. 
And then he'll come and sit in the cellar along 
with us. 

GEORGE 
He'll remember many things but his words 
will be bitter with the sight just gone from 
him. 

GREGORY 
Soon he'll be sitting here with us and be spit- 
tin' about in the dark. 

{They are nearing the end of the bundle. Sud- 
denly their bodies straighten and their arms 
come up together, a dollar bill in their hands.] 
It's got a stiff feeling . . . 

GEORGE 
It's somethin' new . . . 

GREGORY 
It's covered with tiny threads . . . 

GEORGE 
Like silk . . . 

{Their heads come together.] 

GREGORY 

It's got a nice smell . . . 

GEORGE 
How thin the edge is! 

GREGORY 
Twenty years I've been waiting . . . 



PHILIP MOELLER 15 

GEORGE 
This would be a great moment for my sight to 
come back. 

GREGORY 
Do you know what I've got in my hand? 
It's a thousand dollars. 

GEORGE 
It's stiffer'n rags. 

GREGORY 
I can buy lots of soap and be clean when I 
get to heaven. 

GEORGE 
Food in the morning and food at noon and 
food at night and a bed to sleep in . . . 

GREGORY 
I mayn't die for a long while. 

GEORGE 
It's a good thing I kept awake and did my duty. 

GREGORY 
May God turn the lie to flame in your mouth. 

GEORGE 
Lie is it? 

GREGORY 
It will hang to your feet on the judgment day, 
weighing you down when you stretch towards 
the Lord. 

GEORGE 
It's mighty familiar your tongue is with God. 



16 TWO BLIND BEGGARS 

GREGORY 
[Attempting to snatch the bill aiuay and 
shrieking.] 
It's mine! mine! mine! 

GEORGE 
[Whispering.] 
You're wrong, yoa rotten old man, it's mine. 

GREGORY 
[Quickly.] 

My hand touched it first. 

GEORGE 
I felt your hand reach it. 

GREGORY 
It's mine! 

GEORGE 
You're like the burnt out end of stick, old man. 
It I touch you you'll crumble to ashes. 

GREGORY 
Keep back from me, for I've two teeth left 
and they're sharp. 

GEORGE 
What will you do with the money, with the 
smell of the years on you? 

GREGORY 
I'll buy, and I'll burn tall candles, and when I 
awake forever, I'll be nighest the seat of the 
Mighty, kissing the feet of the Lord. 



PHILIP MOELLER 17 

GEORGE 
It's more likely you'll be bending down to 
polish his boots. 

GREGORY 
He'll be touching my lids till the gay sight 
comes into my eyes. 

GEORGE 
You're wastin' your hope and the money 
There isn't a foot of room in the whole white 
length of heaven for a smutty and rotten old 
boy like you, 

GREGORY 
May the God of the sparrows forgive you for 
his wicked son Cain is born again. 

GEORGE 
I'll leave you alone in the cellar to sweat and 
to freeze and to pray and to stink. 
[Fie clutches the bill] 

GEORGE 
The money is mine for I'll know how to spend 
it . . . 

GREGORY 
Let go! let go! 

GEORGE 
I'll go down where the street girls walk and 
I'll feel their faces and smell their breath and 
she that's the sweetest will go with me and 
all day long I'll be believin' in your God. And 
this on Monday and this on Tuesday, and on 
Wednesday — booze and a length of sleep. 

[He attempts to snatch the hill. They struggle.] 



18 TWO BLIND BEGGARS 

GREGORY 
Christ! Mary! Francis! Peter! Paul! 

[And then to George.] 
God damn you! 

[Suddenly they spring at each other's throats. 
The hill falls from their hands and tumbles 
back amid the rags. They sivay and slip. 
They are up again and the fight goes on.] 

GEORGE 
Your teeth! 

GREGORY 
Unclose your claws. 

[Choking.] 
II I! 

[They are noiv behind the stove and gradually 
they sink to the floor. They have strangled 
one another. Then there is silence and an- 
other coal drops in the stove. A moment 
later the Third Beggar and the Little Girl 
come doivn into the cellar. They step on the 
last step and sit dotvn.] 

THE LITTLE GIRL 
How does the story end? 

THE THIRD BEGGAR 
They lived happy ever after. 

THE LITTLE GIRL 
That was a beautiful story. Will you tell me 
another tomorrow? 



PHILIP MOELLER 19 

THE THIRD BEGGAR 

Yes, while we walk. How much did we get 

today? 

THE LITTLE GIRL 

A rich child gave me three pennies. Her dog 

ran after her with a collar of silver bells 

around its neck. 

THE THIRD BEGGAR 
If my eyes only last till the winter comes and 
then I can go out alone and be playing my 
flute. In the old days I'd get many pennies 
that way. It's a fine sound for the rich people, 
the white sound of my flute, below in the 
streets when the snow's falling and the lamps 
are lit, 

[He starts groping about him.] 
Is it dark in the cellar? 

THE LITTLE GIRL 
There's a coal that's still red in the stove. 

THE THIRD BEGGAR 
We can warm our fingers. 

[He comes forward and stumbles against the 
bodies.] 

THE LITTLE GIRL 
If I don't lead you, you'll fall. Give me your 
hand. 

THE THIRD BEGGAR 
I'm steady now. My foot slipped against one 
of the bundles. 

[He again comes forivard and this time trips 
over the outstretched legs of the beggars.] 



20 TWO BLIND BEGGARS 

THE THIRD BEGGAR 
What's this? 

THE LITTLE GIRL 
I'll light the lamp. 

THE THIRD BEGGAR 
Yes. Here's a match. 

[He searches in his pocket, turning out one 
and then the other.] 

THE THIRD BEGGAR 
I've got none. See if you can find a bit of 
waste paper on the floor that I can light at 
the coal. 

[The Little Girl looks among the rags njohere 
the beggars have been sifting. She finds the 
bill] 

THE LITTLE GIRL 
Here's a crumpled piece of paper. Will this do? 
[She brings it to the old man.] 

THE THIRD BEGGAR 
I can't see. It's so dark down here. 

[He folds it into a sli'ver.] 
Yes, this will do. Now lead me to the stove. 
[The Little Girl does so. He lights the paper. 
In the flicker of light he sees the tiuo dead 
beggars.] 

THE LITTLE GIRL 
I'm afraid! 

THE THIRD BEGGAR 
Don't talk or you'll wake them. Go home now. 



PHILIP MOELLER 21 

THE LITTLE GIRL 
[At the stairs.] 
You must'nt forget my story tomorrow. 

THE THIRD BEGGAR 
It will be even finer than today. 

[The Little Girl goes out. The bill is nearly 
burnt to a cinder. He looks at the bit left 
in his hand.] 
God forgive me. It was so dark I couldn't 
see. It's a dollar bill that I've burnt! 

[Then as he leans over the tiuo beggars.] 
It must be a terrible thing to be blind and 
to die. 

CURTAIN 



We FLYING STAG PLAYS 
FOR THE LITTLE THEATRE 

TO BE PUBLISHED MONTHLY 
Thirty Five Cents Each Three Dollars a Year 

A Subscription Includes All Plays Already Published. 

The Best One Act Plays Produced by the 
Washington Square Players, the Provincetown 
Players, The Greenwich Village Players, and 
other little theatre groups in America, will be 
included in this series. 

THE CHESTER MYSTERIES, a Passion 
Play, as played on Christmas eve by the 
Greenwich Village Players. 

No. 1. THE SANDBAR QUEEN, by 
George Cronyn. (Washington Square Players.) 

No. 2. NIGHT, by James Oppenheim. 
(Provincetown Players.) 

No. 3. THE ANGEL INTRUDES, by 
Floyd Dell. (Provincetown Players.) 

No. 4. ENTER THE HERO, by Theresa 
Helburn. (St. Francis Players.) 

No. 5. TWO BLIND BEGGARS AND 
ONE LESS BLIND, by PhiUp Moeller. 
(Washington Square Players.) 

IN PREPARATION 
THE PRODIGAL SON, by Harry Kemp. 
LA CIGALE, by Lyman Bryson. (Arts and 
Crafts Theatre, Detroit.) 
THE ROPE, by Eugene O'Neill. 
A PLAY, by Alfred Kreymborg. 
And Others. 

Published by EGMONT ARENS, at the 

Washington Square Book Shop, New York, 
17 West 8th Street. 



LIBRPRY OF CONGRESS 





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